Amaryllis
by the house in the clouds
Summary: Since the death of her beloved sister Rue, 9-year-old Amaryllis struggles with grief and the responsibilities that now fall on her shoulders. She's not sure she can be what her sister was. On top of that, Ryllis is sensing changes in the life she's always known. District Eleven is reaching its breaking point. Can Ryllis rise to the occasion and seize the opportunity for her future?
1. Three fingers

I'm getting older, but today I just want to hold onto Mama's hand. I want to but I can't, because she's got both her hands full. One of her arms is busy holding Nan up on her hip because the baby's too little to walk fast. She just toddles one shaky leg at a time, and falls over on her face and cries. She always wants to walk now, but today someone's got to carry her. She was whining and squirming because she wanted to get down, but now that she sees this swarming field of strangers, I think she's okay letting Mama carry her.

Mama's other hand is holding onto Lily and making sure she doesn't get lost. Lily's only three and she still thinks Mama and Daddy and Granny can do anything just because they're grown up. She doesn't know that if she gets lost in this crowd we might never find her. District Eleven's got more people than even Mama can count, and she went to school for longer than any of us. More land than she can count, too. When I ask how big she says, "You haven't even seen a tiny piece of it, Ryllis."

My sister used to take me to work with her so I could help make money. We climbed trees together and I could see pretty far from the highest ones, miles, I think, and I've still never seen the fence. And then Mama told me what I've seen, that's not even a tiny piece of all of Eleven. I couldn't imagine something so big. Mama says I could meet one new person here every single day of my life and not meet them all, even if I got to be as old as Granny. Granny is so old, she was a little girl the year of the first Quarter Quell. This year will be the third. If she remembers that she must be at least eighty years old, but she doesn't remember her years. After a while they say you don't see the point in counting your years, but I don't know. I think I'll always want to know my year.

Zaley and Annie hold onto my hands because they can't hold Mama's either and I'm the next best thing because I'm the next oldest here. Daddy doesn't count because he's home with the wasting-away sickness that makes people all skinny, and Granny stayed home in case he needs anything. They're the only two who don't have to come to see the victors. We'd all stay home if we were allowed.

But actually, maybe I would come. I want to see Katniss. I want her to say something about Rue. I don't want her to forget my sister. I don't want anyone to forget. I want to hear her say it, and I think Mama and Zaley and Annie do too. Nan and Lily are too little to remember. Nan was still tiny last year when my sister got up on the stage and went away forever. The rest of us were crying and trying to keep breathing, and Nan just kept drinking down her milk under Mama's shirt. Nan and Lily won't even remember Rue, but the rest of us will never forget.

My sister. I don't know how she did what she did, and I don't know how I'll ever be able to do it as well. She didn't have enough to eat, but she'd skip meals and let us divide her food up and gobble it down. She worked every day, as hard as any of the adults, to bring home enough money so we could eat. She taught me how to climb trees so I could come help her during harvest. Now I'm the oldest sister and I don't know how to do it.

That's how Katniss ended up in the Games. She was being a big sister. So now her sister gets to live. And mine was the same age and she died anyway. I wonder, though—if it was Zaley or An, would I be brave enough to volunteer instead of them? I don't know. I really don't know. I don't want to think about it. But Zaley and Annie are six and five, so I don't have to worry about that yet. I only have to worry about my own name right now. I'm nine years old. Only three more years until my name goes in the ball.

My family needs me, too. Since Rue's gone, they need me more than ever. Rue and I used to do all the hard work and earn most of the money. Daddy got too sick and Mama's busy with the babies and Granny's old. They all do what they can, but it isn't enough. Mama watches other peoples' babies for them so they can work. Granny makes herb medicines and sells them cheap because when someone gets sick, no one here can afford the special medicines that come from the Capitol. If you're sick you either fight it on your own or you die.

Granny is Daddy's Mama and she moved in with us because she couldn't keep fixing up her house anymore. She's the one who had a family tradition of naming us for plants. Rue, Amaryllis, Azalea, Anise, Lily, and Nandina. Katniss's sister is named for a flower too. I just remembered. I hadn't heard of primrose before. I hadn't heard of katniss either, but now we all know that word.

We can't get any farther through the crowd. We're supposed to go stand in front, up on the platform for the tributes' families, but the crowd is too thick to let us through. In a place this big, they don't recognize us. We're just another group of pushing, brown-skinned, curly-haired people. Well, until the Peacekeepers see us and begin to push their way through. People pull away from them, and the white-suited people move easily toward us. No one wants to touch a Peacekeeper.

Zaley tries to act like she's not scared, straightening up and staring right in their eyes. I squeeze her hand to remind her she can't do anything to get us in trouble, which she actually might. Zaley likes to be the brave one, but Peacekeepers aren't a game. She wasn't there the day they shot Martin for putting the glasses in his pants or whipped Delilah because she was eating crops while she worked. They didn't even warn them or think first. They just drew their weapons and _bam. _It was that fast. We're so powerless. Zaley doesn't understand that or she wouldn't stand up so stiff and glare right in their faces. They could do the same to us as they did to Martin in not even a second, right here, right now, they could whip out their guns and _bang _and there wouldn't be any consequences. Zaley doesn't want to understand that but she has to.

Annie holds tight to my hand and presses up to my side as the Peacekeepers come closer. She's scared of them. Well, who's not? I don't like even being close to the men in white who tower over me and have whips and guns in arms' reach.

No whips and guns for us today, though. They just stand in two lines, forming a white path just for us. Now everyone is staring. Now they know who we are.

I feel like I can't even look them in the eye, so I sneak glances at them as I pass and it startles me to realize that one of them has brown skin. He must be from here. I've never seen dark brown skin on anyone but District Eleven people. I can tell Zaley is glaring extra-hard at that man. I don't know how he ended up in the Peacekeepers but just because he has skin like ours, I can't help thinking he is a traitor for being in that uniform. He doesn't seem to notice our accusing gaze. He just stares forward like all the other Peacekeepers do.

Up at the platform, we all look straight ahead toward the stage. I don't want to look behind us and see miles of tired eyes and skinny arms and hopeless grown-ups holding hopeless kids. I can't even tell them apart, it's all just one long field of sad and tired. I bet that's what we look like to them and it's funny to think of that, of anyone looking over my Mama in a crowd and not knowing who she is. She's a short woman with wide, dark pink lips. She wears her hair in a braided wreath to keep it out of her way. Her skin's lighter than ours but darker than Daddy's. She's always got the baby up on her hip and she likes to tell stories. When we were little and we were scared, she'd tell us a story about something. Her slow, quiet voice made us calm and her words made us forget. She sings, too, if she thinks nobody's listening but the baby. When we got old enough that she stopped singing to us, Rue started. That's another thing of Rue's that I can't do. Or can I? I've never actually tried. I'm going to have to remember to do that. I want to try singing so that I'll remember the songs Rue used to sing. And I can pass them on so Nandina and Lily remember too, and then they can have something of Rue even if they don't remember her.

Katniss and Peeta aren't here yet. The stage of the crumbling Justice Building is empty. Mama lets go of Lily and tells her sternly,

"You stay right where we can see you. Do not go wandering off, Lily, do you understand?"  
"All right, Mama."

"What did I tell you to do?"

"Stay."

"Good girl."

Lily can't stay still, she's got so much energy. She's lucky she's too little to understand. She hops around the platform pretending to be a bird in the field, pulls on her braided pigtails, and sings up at a passing mockingjay overhead, trying to get it to mimic her, but it ignores her voice. She tries again, louder. She doesn't understand how to let the gentle tones flow like a stream. She's making mincemeat of sound. Of course they ignore her.

"Lily, listen." I sing carefully, four notes, the four notes that Rue taught me. Now that she's gone, I'm the one to climb the tree at the end of the day and sing it so the mockingjays pick it up and carry the sound all over the fields. I'm the one watching a chain reaction of workers stopping to listen, packing up their tools, heading home to their families. I'm good at it now. The mockingjay sings it right back down to us, flying another lazy loop above us.

Lily claps and grins. "Again again again!" She demands. "Ryllie, again! Do it again, Ryllie!" So I keep doing it until the mockingjay flies away.

"Hey. I thought you might want to know," says a serious voice. We all turn at once, like a startled flock of birds. A big, dark girl is standing next to Mama. It's Thresh's sister—I don't remember her name—so his family must be here. She points to the front of the crowd, where an old man in overalls is talking to a bunch of people. Some are nodding, others shake their heads and frown.

"That's Crow. He's been saying if they say anything to thank us, we should all do that thing they do in Twelve." She puts three fingers to her lips and holds them out.

Mama and I look at each other, both nervous. I want to show her respect if she honors my sister. But that, here, could be dangerous.

"What's he think he's doing? That man is going to get everybody killed." Mutters Mama.

"I want to do it!" Zaley says boldly. "For Rue. Because Katniss tried to save her and everything. Right, Annie? If I do it, will you?" She acts like it's all a game.

An looks uncertainly at me. She's scared, and she should be. "Are you going to, Ryllis?"

All I can say is, "She'd better give Rue the mention she deserves. Then we'll see."

By the time the speaker finally introduces Katniss and Peeta to the stage, Zaley and I are each gripping one of Lily's arms to keep her from running off after she tried to chase a butterfly into the crowd.

I look up as the doors swing open, and there they are; the two famous faces. Star-crossed lovers, they're called on TV. I don't know what I expected. They look small and very human and very nervous. The Capitol acts like they're such heroes, and made them look like heroes on the screen. It's kind of a shock to realize they're just people.

Katniss goes first and I can tell she's memorized what she was supposed to say beforehand. She talks like she's gone away in her head and stares out above the crowd. She says what she's supposed to say and then it's over, with us still left waiting. She didn't mention anything about what District Eleven's part in the Games. Not a word about Rue. Her name is left unsaid.

I still can't believe it even after Peeta's taken her place and begins to speak. I tune out because it's shaping up to be the same dull, scripted speeches we hear year after year, but then his tone catches my attention. I can tell from the way he hesitates that he's about to say something unplanned.

He wants us to get a month of their winnings. Every year as long as they're alive.

Can they even do that? Will they give that to us? Because it seems like too much to hope for.

If that happens, it means we'll be a little less hungry. Probably less people will starve to death. I won't have to give so many meals to Lily and Zaley and An. We may finally know how it feels to be satisfied from eating.

It also means that he's truly a good person, unlike her. I can tell he really feels bad, he feels horrible, about what happened to Rue and Thresh and everyone here in Eleven, because his face is so sad, because of what he said. He's truly a good person.

Unlike Katniss, who's leaning in to kiss him. Unlike Katniss, who can let other people carry her to the finish and then just forget about everything they did for her.

If it had been Katniss dead, I know Rue would have reminded everyone about the good things she did and what kind of person she was. But Katniss is just going to let that all go by?

And then Katniss is looking at me and I stare her right in the eye with all my anger and disappointment. I stare at the victor of the seventy-fourth Hunger Games and ask her who she thinks she is, in my mind. And I know she sees me, because she steps forward again, toward me, toward the crowd. "Wait!" It's the first _real _thing she's said all day. Her face is desperate. And she gives the speech I wanted. I smile, satisfied, as she begins to talk about her respect for Thresh.

And when she gets to Rue, I feel fierce and sad and proud and triumphant all at once. The stage and sky go blurry from tears. I squeeze An's hand tight, and she squeezes it back.

Katniss gives Rue a good speech, the one she deserves. She talks about seeing her everywhere. In mockingjays, in wildflowers, and in her own sister. Yes, this is a beautiful speech, the kind that no one from District Eleven ever gets. _Thank you, Katniss, for singing to Rue as she died. It was good to know she had someone in that arena. Thank you for the flowers we found woven over her body, making her a person again, rather than just another dead tribute. Your speech today makes it matter. We're not allowed to forget. The Capitol made my sister die but they can't make everyone forget like she was nothing. Not if we want to remember._

Katniss's speech doesn't go much longer than that. She probably wouldn't be allowed to have more time. She just finishes with, "Thank you for your children. And thank you all for the bread."

_And thank you, Katniss. For everything. Making my sister someone to be remembered. After everything she did for us, and for you, she should be. _

Someone whistles and it jolts me a little because I was thinking about Rue, and for a moment I think she's here, she's whistling for the mockingjays to pick up the sound. But she's not here, so who's whistling her tune?

"Crow!" Zaley whispers, fiercely happy, squeezing my hand. I glance at the screens. There we are, and behind us, Crow stands with his three fingers out toward her, and all around us, everyone is doing the same in a huge wave of hands. It's overwhelming, that sign, that deep feeling, as far as the eye can see. Crow must have been planning this beforehand, because how else would so many people know? I'm afraid and excited all at once. Beside me, Zaley pushes her three fingers out too. I'm thinking of Thresh and Rue and we're all thinking of everyone who died in Eleven and how Katniss made those people matter again. Yes, we love her. Caught up in the flood of emotion, I don't let myself be afraid of the consequences that will come later. I let go of Zaley's hand and put my fingers to my lips. I hold them out for Katniss like she did for Rue. And then, a little less certainly, Anise grips my hand tighter and does the same. I can see us, all of us now, on the screen, Mama doing it too, and Thresh's sister and his Granny with their three fingers out, even Lily, who doesn't understand what's going on, has put her hand up to Katniss.

I don't get a chance to see what Katniss thinks of this, because the screens suddenly go black. Punishment time is here; fear has come for us. The crowd knows it; I can feel their tension and hear them murmuring behind me. What will happen now?

"We've got to get out of here, now." Mama says quietly. I see the white uniforms pushing through the crowd. It's going to be bad. People are starting to force their way, looking like a hive of brown bees. Mama grabs me and I try to grab the others. we're going to have to hold onto each other tightly to not get lost.

We're too late to get away. The crowd's too thick and chaotic. From where we are, we can see everything clearly. They've got Crow by the arms and they're dragging him forward. He's fighting but he's one and they're many and they have the whips and guns. It's the end for him. I knew it would be, but watching, I just don't believe it.

"No!" Zaley screams, pulling my arm, trying to get to him. I don't let her go, but I can't make her turn away. She watches in wide-eyed horror as they push Crow down on his knees.

The shot is louder than I could have imagined. It chokes our breathing and makes our hearts stop right there. Annie's crying hard, holding tight to my shirt. I think she peed when the shot was fired. Nan screams again and again. I drag Zaley away into the crowd. Lily! What about Lily? There she is, holding onto Mama's other hand. We all hang onto each other as the panicked crowd rips at us from all sides. We're all just trying to find family and get away. I can hear more shots, I feel them ripping the air. We're all trying to get ahead of the next person so we won't be the next one to get a bullet in the back. Nandina won't stop her screaming, screaming, screaming. I follow my Mama blindly, holding Zaley and An as tight as I can. Zaley's sobbing too, now, swearing at the Capitol.

We'll never get out of here, not all six of us. But the Victor's Village is just a bit ahead. "Mama, Victor's Village!" I yell. She can barely hear me and she doesn't understand at first. I have to yell it again and again before she says, "Right!" and pulls us toward the gate. It takes a few terrifying minutes before we can even get close. I try to shield Zaley and Annie and I get slammed up against the Village fence a couple times. Finally, we get through the gate, and Mama hugs all of us in her arms. She tries to talk calmly to Nan, who just keeps crying and crying with her face all scrunched up.

These are the houses that are actually houses. Seeder lives in one of them. I know her, kind of. Most houses in Eleven are actually just shacks. What would it be like to live in a house like this?

There's less of a crowd here and we can finally breathe. We'll have to stand on this path and wait for a while as people find there way out. I'd rather rush home like the rest of them, but with so many of us, we just can't do it. I can see that some other big families had the same idea. We're all just huddled in groups, waiting, scared to be standing still like targets with the angry Peacekeepers on our backs, but there's no choice.

Lily's confused and keeps asking questions. She wants to know what just happened, why was there a loud noise.

"Mama, Annie peed. What was the noise, Mama? What was the noise?" she says, and Mama tells her to be quiet now and she'll answer her later.

Zaley pulls away from the rest of us. She's crying and shaking her head.

"We can't keep going on like this," she says, looking up at us with her watery, stunned eyes. "It has to stop. Something has to change."

"Azalea, be quiet!" Mama looks around to make sure there aren't any Peacekeepers to hear her. "You will get us killed, do you understand? Did you see what just happened?"

Zaley just keeps shaking her head., not even bothering to wipe away the tears. She can't believe we're all going to just let it happen. "It has to change," she says again.

And she's right, I think. Things today feel different. This has been going on for so long. I feel something that's been building up. We don't want to keep going on like this; we can't. Something's different now than it has been before. It has to change.


	2. Breaking point

When Mama swings the open the door to our hut, still trying to calm the screaming Nandina, Granny and Daddy are waiting at the little round table where we eat when there's food and drink tea when there isn't. Daddy must have been really scared, to get out of bed; he's shaking even with the effort of sitting up at the table.

Granny gets up as soon as she sees us. "What happened, Nym?" She looks at all of us with her big scared eyes. She's so afraid that even the ends of her frizzy white hair are shaking. Lily's the only one not upset. She runs across the dirt floor and climbs up on Daddy's lap. "Lily, careful!" I say since he makes a face like she's hurting him.

"Daddy, there was a loud noise. It was like this much loud!" She holds her arms wide apart.

Zaley puts her arm around An, still mad, and before Mama can answer Granny, she says, "They murdered Crow, that's what happened! Other people got shot too, who knows how many?"

Granny's eyes are big, but not too surprised. Just tired. "Oh…" She takes Nan from Mama and bounces her up and down trying to make her be quiet. It doesn't stop her though, just makes her yelling come out all wobbly.

"Rose, if you can get Nan to sleep, we can all hear ourselves think. Then I'll tell you. Right now I just need to sit down."

Granny hugs An with her free arm. "You look like you've had a hard day too." Annie nods, still teary. "Let's get you some clean clothes, honey." She takes Annie and Nan into our bedroom. It's quieter with the crying baby in the next room.

Mama sits down next to Daddy at the table and puts her hand on his back. "Are you all right?"

"Better now that we know you and the kids got out safe."

Mama puts her head down on the table like she's all done for today. In the next room, Nan's voice is getting softer and quieter. She's worn herself out and now she'll fall asleep. Zaley goes and picks up the rag doll Rue made her, with a sewn face and one of Nan's dresses on. She stands in the middle of the room hugging the doll and talking to it in a voice we can't hear. I go sit at the table in the wobbly chair and wait. It won't be long now. Nan's gone quiet. Granny's best at making babies stop crying.

Lily keeps asking "What was the noise? Mama, what was the noise?"

"The noise was guns." Zaley says flatly.

Lily's eyes go wide. "That was guns?"

"Yeah, Lily, they shot guns. That's why everyone ran away."

Lily goes silent to think about that, chewing on her thumb. Then,

"They were shooting at us?"

"They didn't care who they shot. So we all had to get away."

Lily leans her head on Daddy's shoulder and sucks her thumb.

"The noise scared Nan, and Annie peed."

"We know, Lily." Mama says tiredly.

Granny comes back through the door with her arm around An. "The baby's asleep. Remember to be quiet and don't wake her up."

Annie goes to Mama and climbs up on her lap. Mama hugs her tight.

"So?" Granny asks as she sits down at the table. Not wanting to miss anything, Zaley comes over and stands next to me.

"So, Katniss spoke thanking Thresh and Rue. And old man named Crow apparently wanted everyone to do that sign from Twelve. He whistled the tune that she used to…." Mama shakes her head, "And everyone put up three fingers. I don't think the Peacekeepers liked that very much. I knew as soon as the screens went black. They pulled out Crow and shot him, and when everyone was stampeding to get away, they shot into the crowd. We couldn't get through the crowd. We hid in the Victor's Village until the road cleared a little."

"Crow," Granny says, "I knew him. I'm sad, but not surprised."

"They _murdered _him!" Zaley says angrily. "And he was our friend!"

"He was?" Mama's surprised, "Who is 'us'?"

"Me and Annie and Autumn. He's Autumn's granddad's cousin." Autumn's Zaley's age. She's in her grade at school.

"Annie?" Mama says.

"They made me go!" An says immediately.

"Yeah, and you agreed with him! You _said _he had good ideas! He had ideas that he thought could save us all, but now—" Zaley rubs her eyes.

"Scary ideas," Annie says, "He was right, but Zaley, after seeing that do you really think anything we tried would work?"

"Zaley," says Mama carefully, "I'm very sorry about Crow. I really am, but working with someone like him is dangerous."

Zaley just looks at the ground, shaking her head. "He was the only one who listened to me," she whispers, "Everyone else says I'm stupid and just be quiet, but not him. He said I'm right. He was angry too."

"Azalea," Daddy says softly, "We're all angry and no one is trying to say that you're stupid. But we have to do what we have to do, to keep our families safe."

She looks back up at us with her blazing, teary eyes. "What's the point in that, here? So we can all just grow up to keep living like this? Because I don't want that, can't you understand? I'd rather _die _fighting than live like this forever. And Crow said so too. And now he's gone and I'm alone." She hugs the doll tighter and looks back at the floor.

"Azalea…" Daddy begins, not knowing what to say. No one knows what to say. "I'm sorry."

She just shakes her head again and walks out of the room.

Our shack has four rooms, which is more than some people have. The big front room is the kitchen, with the little round table and the chairs which are actually just carved logs standing on their ends. There are three doors in the back of the kitchen. The first one is the little bathroom that doesn't really work too well. If we want to take a bath, we have to fill the metal tub from the stream with a bucket.

The door on the other side is Mama and Daddy's room. The baby sleeps on their bed in between them so they wake up when she cries.

The door in the middle is the kids' room with three mattresses on the floor. The one near the door is the one where Granny sleeps with Lily. She has to because sometimes Lily will get up in the middle of the night to play, and she'll wake us up. Granny tells her stories until she goes back to sleep. The mattress in the far right corner is where Zaley and Annie sleep. That's where Zaley's been all day, holding onto her doll. She won't talk to any of us, not even Annie.

And then there's the mattress in the far left corner. I get that one all to myself. In Eleven, any kid would feel lucky getting a bed to themselves if they lived in a house with lots of siblings. But to me it just feels lonely and I think it always will, because ever since I can remember, Rue and I shared that bed. I didn't sleep at all the first night she was gone, just cried and listened to the empty space where her breathing should have been. I wondered if she was sleeping alone in the Capitol, too. I wondered if she was awake and feeling the emptiness in her bed. _Rue, _I kept thinking to the night sky, feeling like if I thought it hard enough she'd hear me. But I never heard anything back. The Capitol is very far away. I never thought my sister would be so far away from me. It was hard to imagine she was still in the world at all.

Tonight is a bad-sleep night for all of us. I'm awake in the dark a long time after I lay my head down, and I feel restless. I want to talk to someone. I can hear Zaley and An whispering together in the darkness, so I crawl across the dark dirt floor and into Zaley and Annie's bed. I'm quiet and sneaky, not because I think I'd get in too much trouble—Granny would probably just tell me to go back to bed because I need my strength to work tomorrow—but I don't want to wake Lily. If I do that, she'll want to get up and play, and no one's in the mood to act all happy and cheerful for her.

It feels better being curled up with someone in the bed, even though we're all squashed in together. But we're all little and skinny, so we fit. I wonder why I never thought of pushing my mattress over here so we could all share. I think I'll do that tomorrow.

"Ryllie…"Zaley complains, "You're squishing me!"

"Ouch. That was my face!" An whispers.

"Annie, move over! You're hogging half the bed!" Zaley whispers back. I guess she's not ignoring us anymore. She just needed some time. It happens with her. Annie and Nan and Lily are clingy. Even in bad moods they all seem to feel better around people. But Zaley can get into a place where it's just better to let her be until she's ready to talk to us again.

We all squirm around until we're comfortable, and then we start talking.

"Sorry," I say, "But I couldn't sleep and I didn't want to be alone."

"I think no one can sleep after everything today," says Zaley.

"I'm worried more about Daddy than anything right now, actually," Annie says. Fear grabs me. I can feel Zaley go tense, and she shifts against me. "You think he's worse, An?" Lots of people hold on for a long time against the wasting-away disease. If they do that long enough, they can get better. But for some people that just means they die slower.

"You didn't see, but after sitting up so long, he couldn't even get up from the table. Mama and Granny had to help carry him to bed."

I don't want to think about that. My daddy used to be so strong. He could carry me on his shoulders up until I was seven. That's when he stared getting sick. It makes me feel sad to think that Lily and Nan will never know what it feels like to be picked up in Daddy's strong arms. So he has to get better. He has to, because I can't even think of it happening any other way.

"It makes me mad," Zaley whispers, "I bet they have the medicine to fix it in the Capitol. Or even if we lived in a Career district, we could probably get something. But they don't care."

"If we lived there," I remind her, "he wouldn't even be sick in the first place. They're not exposed to it and they get lots of vaccines when they're little."

"What are vaccines?" An wants to know.

"You had them once. You may have been too young to remember. There was a plague."

"I think I remember," Zaley says, "Was it when they put the needles in our arms?"

"Yeah. Even the Capitol had to care then. They couldn't let all the harvesters die."

"I wonder what would happen to them," Zaley muses, "If we all just stopped getting food for them."

"They'd threaten to torture the children," I remind her, "And then the parents would do whatever they wanted so that wouldn't happen. Remember?"

"Not if we could escape, and hide."

"They'd find us. They have flying machines and radar and all kinds of stuff we can't even imagine. We could hide if we had technology. But we don't. Anyway, we'd never all reach the fence. I've walked way far into the fields and climbed way high into trees, but I've never even seen the fence. We wouldn't even know how to get past it."

"No one I know's seen it. Maybe there isn't even one and they just say there is to keep us from running away."

"Of course there's a fence, Zaley. How could they have a district this big and not put up a fence?"

"I know…" she sighs and goes limp. "It's just, I want to escape this kind of life. Really, really bad. I do not want this to be my entire life."

"Maybe it won't be," An's been quiet for a while, but now she speaks, "I think there's actually a chance for once."

"What do you mean, An?"

I see her outline stirring. She props herself up on one elbow and stares at us both. "I mean I can feel something different. Life was all the same for a while, but now the feeling keeps changing. Fast. You know?"

"Yeah," I do know.

"When did it start, exactly?" An asks, "Because I wasn't even thinking about it, so I missed it."

"Well, for everyone, it was the berries, I'm pretty sure," I say.

"Definitely. Because the Capitol made a rule. And then they broke it, and they're still alive. They got what they wanted. And that made everyone start thinking, maybe…"

"I didn't finish," I say, "For all of Panem, it started with the berries. But for Eleven it was before that. It started when…" I don't know how to talk about this, but I make myself say it as quickly as possible. "When Katniss sang for Rue. And when she held out three fingers."

"I hope so," Zaley says, "Because you know what that means? If there is a change, that means even though they killed Rue, she still did something to start it. She was part of saving Panem."

That's a good thought. It actually makes me feel better, a little, about losing my sister, and nothing else has done that yet. I tell myself that if I do get a chance, I won't let myself be to scared, I'll take it. For Rue. Because I don't want her to have died for nothing.

I wonder, if anything actually did happened, would I be brave enough to keep that promise? I'm scared and excited just thinking about it.

"If anything does change," Annie points out, "Which it probably won't. It might even just make things worse. The Peacekeepers were really mad about today."

"Yeah, but they've always been mad. Us?" I say, feeling a glimmer of Zaley's excitement and hope. Even though it's not wise, I let it flicker and glow in my chest like a candle flame. "We're the ones really changing, because we've hit our breaking point." Something in me is getting stronger. "I think Zaley's right. The Capitol has been hurting us for years. But this is new. We have hit our breaking point, with Rue, and Katniss, and now Crow. We're sick of them taking away even our hope. Because that's what Crow gave us, and that's why they killed him"

"Right," Zaley says.

"Guys?" Annie says, "This is kind of scary, but you know? If we got a chance I'd want to do whatever I could do."

"Me too." Says Zaley instantly.

"Me too, actually," I say, and for now, tonight, thinking about Crow and Rue and Katniss and hope, I really mean it.


	3. Lockdown

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Not much action yet. I promise I'll try and pick up the story soon. Also, I'm sorry that new chapters come out so slowly. I'm a college student and very busy, and I have to edit all of my work. Slowly but surely, this story will come together. I hope you'll be patient and stick with it.**

The next day I feel hopeless and stupid, though. All that talk about fighting. What fight? There is no fight. There is only an idea, a feeling, the sound of a gunshot and the feeling is gone. That's our fight. Anyway, Annie and Zaley and I are kids. What chance do we have? We're kids and they have guns. Mama and Daddy and Granny aren't much better off. What would they do if the Peacekeepers hurt us? What could I do if they took their revenge on Lily and Nan? Nothing. We could do nothing.

Anyway, look what happened to Thirteen. They were one of the most powerful districts. They were the leaders of the last revolution. They had the best ideas and speakers and leaders, and everyone believed there was actually a chance. And now Thirteen is a smoking pile of toxic ashes somewhere up past Twelve.

But they can't bomb us off the map, can they? I mean, Thirteen was just graphite. They can live without it. But we have the food. They can't blow all that off the face of the world, or else who will feed them? I doubt that thought will come to much, but still...it's worth considering.

Zaley and Annie help me push my mattress across the room, but we're all quiet. I think now they're thinking the same thing as me. We won't be doing any fighting. We'll be more scared than ever and then we'll go back to work.

We have school today. It's not harvest yet, so we get to go to one of District Eleven's falling-down schoolhouses and watch a teacher uselessly writing words on slate. School in District Eleven is pointless because most of us know what we're going to be when we grow up. We're going to work in the fields. You don't need to know how to read words or run through the times-table for that. Harvest is work you learn from experience.

We learn about Tracker Jackers and how to treat the stings and save the victims. We learn to hear the sound before it's too late. We learn how to throw a burning branch under a nest to calm the insects. We learn how to sneak food to our sisters and brothers and children, heart pounding the whole time. We've all seen what happens when someone gets caught. Whippings are at least once a week. We learn how to take care of someone whose back has been ripped apart. We learn how to get back on our feet and work again as soon as possible so we can make enough money and our family won't starve. Kids learn about climbing trees and taking the plants and eggs. We learn about setting a broken bone when someone falls from a tree. We learn that everyone is angry just like we are, but no one can do anything about it. So we learn to cope and make the best of it and they crack down harder and we learn to make the best of that, because that's all we can do. That's what we learn in Eleven. So what's the point in going to school?

I guess it is nice to get a break from working. I've heard that in other districts teachers actually take their jobs seriously. Students do their homework and tests are graded and kids study so they can have their choice of jobs when they grow up. Here, it's like everyone's given up before they've even walked through the chipped doors.

Eleven is a district of hard workers and early risers, so by the time Zaley and An and I get to the kitchen, it's already crawling with small children pushing toy wagons and chewing on rag dolls. We're used to it. Mama's been watching the kids for the workers in our village ever since Zaley was born. She's got Nan draped across her arms and tucked under her shirt to drink. My heart sinks when I see the bare table. Looks like Nan will be the only one to get breakfast today.

"Nothing to eat?" An asks.

"We'll get food at school," Zaley says.

I think about the winnings that Peeta wanted us to have. One year, when I was little, we had a victor in the Games and we got all kinds of treats. I know we probably won't get them, but the thought of canned stew and apple pie and chocolate cake…well, my hopes get up. I can't help it.

Someone raps of the door and I wonder who's coming at this time of day. Not one of the parents with a baby for us to watch. They all know us by now and they just come right in. Since Mama's busy feeding Nan, I get up to go get it. When I swing open the door, my heart stops. I'm looking up at two tall, white-suited, hard-faced Peacekeepers.

This is everyone's worst nightmare. What are they going to do? They can walk right into our house and take us all if that's what they want. I should say something, but I don't know what. I can't even talk.

"To what do we owe the pleasure?" Mama's tense voice comes from across the kitchen. At least she remembers what she should say.

The taller one speaks. "We're here to inform you that District Eleven is under lockdown for an indefinite period of time. When the lockdown has lifted, you will be notified. Good day to you." And just like that, the door is slammed closed again.

A lockdown. So that's all it is. Every so often for reasons that only they know, the Capitol shuts us down. No one can work, no one can go to school, no one can buy food or go to the doctor or earn money. No one can even step outside unless the Peacekeepers tell them to. We all hate lockdowns because it means no earning money, it means worrying about every bite you eat because you don't know when you can go get more. It means worrying and not being able to talk to anyone. I guess that's the point. After yesterday they must be worried that something is starting. Eleven can't plan anything if we can't talk to each other.

Lockdowns aren't fun, but they don't last long, at least we can count on that. The Capitol needs someone to feed them, so the longest lockdown I remember was four days. We haven't got much food, but I think we can make it till then.

"Mama!" Annie whispers, peeking out the front window, "They're standing in our yard!" She ducks down and sits on the floor with wide eyes.

"Yes," Mama says tiredly, "They're in everyone's yard, to make sure no one leaves."

"Mama, what about the babies?"

"The Peacekeepers are probably bringing workers back from the fields right now. The ones who have children will be taken to our house to get them."

"Does that mean we'll see more Peacekeepers?"

"Yes," Mama sighs. "I'm sure we'll see a lot of them."

"Mama! I don't want to see any more of them!"

"Then go back in the bedroom when they come. Don't worry too much, Annie. This happens from time to time. You'll get used to it when you're older. It won't be much fun, but it won't last long. Just a few days, that's all. Then it goes back to normal. Okay?"

A week passes.

The first day of the lockdown, the Peacekeepers knock at our door every ten minutes or so with another man or woman held tight between them. Annie runs into the bedroom and hides under her blankets as if that would stop them from getting her if they wanted to. Mama makes Zaley go with her so she won't say anything to make the Peacekeepers mad. That's not what she tells Zaley, though. She says. "Go stay with Annie so that she won't be too scared."

Then everyone's babies are gone and it's just us sitting around the house. Granny makes soup broth for Daddy and he eats as much as he can, but he doesn't get out of the bed and that's not a good sign at all. We go in and sit with him and tell stories. And every day for an hour the television in Mama and Daddy's room comes on and we all go watch. We don't really like it much, but we're bored. The television is the only electric thing in this house, because every house has one, even the poorest of us. The Peacekeepers put them in to make public punishments even more public. Now, though, it's not public punishment we're watching, but the rest of the Victory Tour. I watch because I notice a difference in other districts too, I can't help it, even though I've told myself no more stupid thoughts about change that would only get me hurt.

I miss a lot of meals. I have to, so Annie and Zaley and especially Lily can get enough. Listening to a cranky little kid when she's also hungry is never fun, especially when you're trapped with her in a house so small you can hear her crying all over. So we have to keep her as happy as possible. Daddy's not too hungry because he's ill and Granny doesn't eat much because she's old. But Mama and I, towards the end of the week we're getting really scared. We're used to being hungry, but now we're starting to feel shaky and sick. On the sixth day I notice just how bad it is. Annie, Zaley, and I are sitting on the floor playing with dolls and complaining about how hungry we are. Annie doesn't really play anymore, she's so worried. She just hugs her doll and rocks it and talks to it like she's putting it to sleep all the time. Our game is interrupted by Nan's wobbly footsteps.

"Nan wants to play too," says Annie. Nan reaches for me. I know what she wants. She wants me to pick her up and spin her around. I get up and tuck my hands under her armpits. She grins, excited, as I lift her up.

She feels so heavy, so much heavier than I remember. I gasp and struggle to hold her up. My arms shake and I manage to spin her once, twice, and then I have to put her down quick. My arms feel all wobbly. It's not just them, either. My whole body wants to collapse.

Nan keeps whining and holding out her arms for more, but I can't. "Go find Mama, okay? Go find Mama," I say desperately, but she doesn't want to. She wants me to keep spinning her and she doesn't understand that I can't do it.

I don't skip dinner, which pretty much means that we all have only a little bit of stale bread and a few bites of apple, and I'm still awake for a long time with a painful stomach and a heavy head. I don't feel right. I'm getting really sick. I think about all the people in District Eleven. How many of them are worrying over bare cabinets too? How many of them are sick just like this? For sure, this will stop any sense of hope that was starting to build up. When all this is over, everyone will be relieved to go back to normal life, to working for food and money, to sending their kids to school so that they can eat. It must be just what Snow wants, I realize. He wants to make us so afraid that going back to our normal lives actually seems like a blessing. It's working, too. I'd do anything for the food at school, warm bread smeared in sweet jam preserves, peach maybe, or apple or grape, some kind of fruit. Juicy slices of pork and beef, a rare treat. I'm torturing myself thinking about it. Food weaves through my dreams. I drink a lake of onion soup but I'm still hungry. I eat a mountain of soft, spongy bread and I'm still so empty. I sigh with bliss as I bite into chicken, rabbit, even squirrel. When I wake up the sun is so harsh and bright. I'm too tired to move. My head hurts. I close my eyes against the sunlight. I don't want to. I mean, I just don't want to. I don't even know what it is I'm supposed to do, I just deeply and thoroughly don't want to do it.

My sisters are moving pretty slowly. I wonder vaguely if I was wrong and they're going to keep us trapped here forever until we starve, if this is my life now. It would be better to crawl out onto the lawn and be shot than wait for this to kill me. I've heard humans can go without food for weeks.

Annie brings me an apple and a chunk of stale bread and I eat it in slow bites because my stomach feels wobbly. Annie rests her little hand on my head. She looks so worried. For me? For herself?

That's when the rapping comes at the door. I can hear the Peacekeeper telling Mama that tomorrow the lockdown will be over and everyone is to go back to their ordinary lives. Annie crawls into the bed with me and cries so hard I can feel her shaking. I'm too tired to ask why so I just run my hand over her hair.

We lay in bed all day, grateful and unable to believe that we're grateful. Just a week ago we were talking about fighting and changing Panem and now we're relieved that they're letting us go back to work.

We don't even bother dragging ourselves in to watch the Victory Tour. We lay in bed all day and wait until tomorrow so we can go to school and get some food. If waking up this morning was unpleasant, I hate to think about what it will be like to drag myself out of bed tomorrow.

The school responds well to the crowd of exhausted, dead-eyed kids huddled in the classroom. I got the teacher Amber and she's actually Seeder's cousin. Our school actually gets really good food because Seeder buys it for us, and she's rich since she won the games, that's what Amber told us. Seeder could buy anything she wants with that money, but she works in the fields just like everyone else and spends what she's got feeding us. She actually came into the school a couple times and I met her. I really liked her, too. She's a great person, she really is. She seems so much like a mama or a granny. It's hard to believe that she's a fighter and a killer, but she is, because that's what you have to be to survive the Games.

Amber starts the day by telling us that we won't be doing any lessons today and the kitchen is working to prepare us a meal, which we'll get as soon as possible. I put my head down on the wobbly table, feeling almost dead. My friend Petra, who sits in front of me, leans back and rests the back of her head in front of mine. She usually keeps her hair in a bunch of little braids, but today it's a frizzy mess that brushes against my frizzy mess. Aspen, my tablemate, comes in late, looking worse than I am. His skeleton legs struggle to keep him up. He falls into the chair on my right, mumbling a bad word as his bony legs collide with the wood.

"I haven't eaten at all this week," he says to me. Poor Aspen. It must have been a horrible week. Waiting seven days with no food at all. The scary thing is, it's not so hard to imagine.

"They're bringing food soon," I tell him.

Aspen is my special friend from the first year of school. He's got really short hair and dark skin and eyes that are almost too pretty to be a boy's. We were in the same class then too, and during harvest, when we were working in the trees, he kissed me. I didn't tell anyone except for Rue, and she was always teasing me about my "secret boyfriend". I quickly stop thinking about that because I don't want to feel any worse than I already do.

The door to the classroom creaksopen and the room quickly fills with the smell of food. Plates are set in front of our staring eyes. On my plate is a groosling wing dripping with fat and some kind of gloppy green leaf. Dark, dense hunks of bread. Amber tells us to eat slow and I know I should. I know that if you starve and then eat a lot, you'll get sick. But I can't help it. I want it so bad and it just can't be enough. Before I even know what I'm doing the greasy meat is in my hands, in my mouth. I swallow huge globs of it without chewing, catching the fat rolling down my chin and licking it off my fingers. The vegetable substance leaves green slime on my hands and then it's gone too. I lick my palms until all the green is gone. I rip off pieces of the bread. Before five minutes have passed, it's all gone and my stomach is beginning to cramp. I know I've made a mistake. This is my first real meal in days, though. I have to keep it down. I have to hang onto it. I wrap my arms around my stomach and try to ignore the surges of pain. Aspen's worse than me, gagging and trying not to let it come back up. Around me, some of my classmates are doing the same; others are slumped back in their seats looking almost drunk off the effects of a really good meal. Petra breathes hard like she just finished a race. She tilts her head back, one hand on her belly. She looks so nauseous.

Amber tells us we don't have to do any schoolwork today, which is good. We're just going to sit at our desk while she tells stories.

A couple of my classmates don't manage to keep down the meal. Eli's first to throw up. He twists around in his seat and bends over the trash bin, gagging into it, but Amaya doesn't make it that far. She stops and bends over in the aisle and brown liquid splatters across the dirty tile. She's whimpering in pain as she retches. Amber comes up to her and pulls her hair up away from her face. After Amaya's done and back in her seat, a couple others get up and rush to the trash bin. Amber cleans the floor with frustrated, jerky movements. She says that more food will be brought at lunchtime and we should try to eat it slower. Her calm, professional voice is straining; I can tell she hates to watch what's happening to us. I wonder if she feels like me—disbelieving, even after all we've seen, that they can do this to us and live with themselves.

The Victory Tour's almost over. Soon we won't have the distraction of TV in the evenings. We all sit around Daddy in the bed, our faces lit by the glow of the screen. Tonight they're in the Capitol. There, it's clearly lit by blazing sunlight. Here, in the middle of winter, it's full dark. I always forget that they're a few hours behind us in the Capitol. I don't know why that is. The sun just rises and sets later there. All the times are different in all the districts. It's weird to think the world doesn't all get up and go to bed at the same time, to remember that while you count the stars someone else is watching a sunrise.

Peeta's speaking about his love for Katniss and I think I know what's coming. He's going to ask her to get married, isn't he? He is, I can tell! I think that's so sweet! Well...at first I do. But then...

The crowd goes wild when Peeta gets down on one knee and proposes. She says yes like she's not even the same girl who spoke about my sister a little over a week ago. Who watched Rue die. She's overwhelmingly excited, disbelievingly happy. President Snow even gets up on the stage and jokes about having to pass a new law to get Katniss's mother to allow her to get married. And Katniss? She smiles at him. She smiles at President Snow, joking around and laughing, she smiles with the man who sent her off to the Games and got my sister killed, the man who controls my district and beats down our starved skeletons—and her district, too, I remember. Looking at her, I can't believe it, but she seems to be beyond it all. Grinning and glowing and excited over her dream wedding right in the Capitol. Well. Isn't that nice.

I'm angry all over again. My sister died and our districts are starving and she's going to smile and forget it all, nothing to worry about anymore, not a care in the world as long as she can be with her lover and have a fancy stylish wedding on television. She's really becoming one of them now.


End file.
